


maybe you can be my remedy

by LEEHYU6KIES



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fairy Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mentions of Blood, day 4: dreams/magic, jeno forgot to leave the door unlocked, mark is an undergroud fighter, mentions of violence/fighting so if that makes u uncomfy dont-
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LEEHYU6KIES/pseuds/LEEHYU6KIES
Summary: Mark always came home battered up, cuts and bruises seen all around his body like it’s always been a part of it. He wins good money through it, he reasons out to his roommate, Jeno. Poor Jeno always has to either stay up or leave the door unlocked, which always ends up with him doing the first one since he can’t really sleep properly knowing that any time, a thief could sneak in.Mark always got to come home to the shared dorm. Not until, of all the days he could’ve failed to remember, Jeno – that damned idiot, Mark thinks – had forgotten to keep the door open on the day of one of his worst fights.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 9
Kudos: 113
Collections: Markhyuck Week 2021





	maybe you can be my remedy

“Aight, I’m heading out in a bit, see you around 11 pm later?” Mark asks. “Ask Jaem if he would want to come over with Renjun if you’re bored.” 

He has a fight again today, much to Jeno’s dismay. They both had just finished their last classes for the day, exhaustion from their walk back to their room already getting to them. Mark had already plopped on the bed, springs creaking from the boy’s weight. Jeno was, well, waiting for the water to boil for his ramen, just like every other unhealthy college kid’s menu.

“Remind me again why you won’t just work as a barista like I do? It’s a job that’s actually allowed,” Jeno was way too tired; he had just worked a shift for 2 hours before the last class he had. In addition to the already handful amount of weariness, the last class was actually their PE course – soccer to be specific.

“The amount of money won in the fights I take on are like, waaay more than what you earn,” Mark answers. “If I didn’t take this then we probably would be missing out on what real food tastes like. Speaking of real food, we should really get some soon, when I take home the prize money.”

“You don't have to- '' Jeno cuts himself off, the energy to argue decreasing by the second. It’s by the time that Mark reaches for the door and heads out when he hears Jeno say, “How you manage to stay up for your fights, I’ll never know.”

“It’s the adrenaline rush, baby!”

* * *

It was nearing 9 pm, when Johnny – one of the guys that worked in the club – had approached him, saying that he was up next. 

Mark wasn’t exactly nervous, after all he has won before. He has taken down guys who were bigger than him. It was all about strategy, Mark thinks. Other than that, Johnny gives Mark information on who he’s up against prior to the fight. In times that Johnny isn't around, unable to support the boy, Mark decides to just wing it; learning more about his opponent as he carries on with the fight.

“Yo, here, you’re going to need it,” Johnny sat beside him as he waited on the few seats near the ring. In his hand was a drink Mark hasn’t seen before, it wasn’t his usual either. It was pink in color, a slice of lime sitting on the rim of the bigger-sized shot glass.

“Are you drugging me?” Mark jokingly asks. 

He felt troubled for some reason, the nerves climbing up the breadth of his back wasn’t of any help either. Mark guesses that it’s either he’ll be hearing bad news from Johnny or the fight he’ll be in today isn’t one that he would be winning.

“You know I’d never do that, but I’m sure that you're going to need it though, so drink it. So, it would be effective by the time you start the fight-”

“So, there’s no info on this one, huh?”

“Tried my best, kid,” Johnny sadly says, Mark reminds him that it’s okay, he wasn’t his official coach anyway. “He’s new though. You’re the first one fighting him.”

_That’s definitely not good news._

Mark feels an uneasy smile crawl up form on his face – like those smiles kids show off whenever they're forced to take a picture under some monument their mom finds pretty. The nerves weren’t stopping from crawling either, making their way into the peak of his shoulders and down to his arms. 

_Ease it out, Mark, you’re gonna do just fine._

* * *

A punch to his jaw and eight more to his side later, Mark thinks that, no, he isn’t doing just fine. 

The drink Johnny gave him did up his reaction time though. He was dodging a lot quicker than he used to. Maneuvering his way out of the corner, his opponent – Lucas, apparently – follows him out, guard up and eyes calculating every move. Mark knew what Lucas was doing. It was the very depiction of how Mark fights, laying out a plan for each move covertly. The downside to knowing how Lucas fights though, was that Mark learns how short of strength he was compared to Lucas.

Lucas has really long and strong legs, he concludes. He wasn’t exactly in the guy’s range, but this huge guy’s limbs we’re so long, he was able to reach Mark. It came to a point where Mark questioned whether he was really out of his range or not. He was sent toppling to the floor. His right leg trapped between Lucas’ pair. Lucas knows what he was doing, it’s unusual that he wasn’t talked about that much in the club but like Johnny has said earlier that none of the people from the club really knows him.

He’s been doing this for two and a half years now, after learning that his parents aren’t able to fund for his college expenses as much as they did before. He has learned and learned and learned that he wasn’t built for this, but even so, he has managed to make his way up. He was known for it too, Mark Lee, underground fighter who isn’t actually cut out to be doing it but has somehow made a name for himself. He was well aware of the fact that he was smaller than most of his opponents. How he’s able to win in fights, he doesn’t really know. But he assumes it's from his quick wit, if it’s not, then he thanks his lucky stars, gods? elves? fairies? He doesn’t even know anymore.

_But if there is any magical being out there, watching like the FBI as I fight, yo? Can you lend me a hand or anything? I might actually die from this._

Lucas sends a punch right against his cheek and Mark just knows, from the way his skin burns at a particular spot, a fresh bruise has graced its way along his cheek bones. He hisses at the sting of it. Lucas smirks,

“Did that hurt? Don’t worry I’ll be ending it quickly.”

Lucas did live up to his words, in a flash he’s gotten Mark in a headlock. Mark’s torso flushed against the floor of the ring. His neck hurts, the weird angle he was being held up at causing his face to distort. He tries to get out of it, only for a heavy weight of Lucas’ hand – Mark didn’t think it was even possible for a human to have this much strength in their hand – to press against his head. His cheek squishing from the pressure. He felt the dirt from the floor scratch against the cut he had earlier.

_For fuck’s sake. Tap. Out. Mark._

* * *

Bidding Johnny farewell after the older helps him clean up the bruises and as well a few rounds of beer (and another one of those pink drinks that Johnny had handed him earlier; for the energy, Mark says), Mark heads out of the club. He keeps his head low, hoodie covering the mess that sits upon his face as he waits at the bus stop.

He gets back to the campus in no time. Walking towards the dorms, he sends Jeno a quick text that says he was on his way back. Jeno better be awake, there is no way he’ll be accepting that he would have to sleep outside after losing a fight.

A few minutes of walking later he faces the door of their room, the numbers 023 looking at him in pity, like they have witnessed how bad the fight had gone earlier. His hand twists on the door knob, only to be stopped by the way it was locked.

_Fuck, Jeno didn’t leave it open._

He knocks on it in frustration, hoping that Jeno would wake up. Three more times and no response, he debates on the idea of screaming – but his throat was scratchy and dehydrated. He didn’t have the energy to continue knocking. His legs ache but he has no choice but to sleep out tonight. He’ll head back in the morning, he knows Jeno’s schedule anyway.

He walks mindlessly along the pavement in order to reach the university’s benches. He feels his shoes come in contact with soil and feels the tall grasses prickle at his skin, a small irritated ‘fuck’ comes out of his mouth as he makes his way to a bench that hides from the bright light of the street lamp.

“What is with humans and having to curse out loud all the time? Why does it have to be my circle too? I really might have to ask the higher ups to move mine soon.” 

A high-pitched mumbling is what startles Mark, just as he was about to take a seat and find sleep despite the uncomfortable fit of his pants against his skin. He can’t really get a rest today, could he? He turns his head to where the sound comes from only to be greeted by a person clad in an all-white outfit, butterfly-like wings about two meters high reflecting the light of the lamp post beside them.

_Johnny, I swear if you drugged me, I’ll be fighting you next time._

Mark doesn’t know what was exactly in that pink drink Johnny has handed him earlier but if that was the reason he’s seeing this just before he’s about to sleep, then he wouldn't have taken it. He groans inwardly, _I just want sleep man-_

“Nah, it wasn’t the drink,” the person says. Butterfly person? Mark wonders what the name for it was. “I’m a fairy, not a butterfly person. And has anyone ever told you that you think so loudly?”

Mark’s eyebrows furrow, “No, has anyone told you that people can’t really hear other people’s thoughts?”

“Cut the attitude, why’d you come step on my circle and summon me-”

“Circle?”

“The one you stepped in? There’s a spot in the grass that is encircled by mushrooms…. No one in their right mind would step inside them-”

“I wasn’t in my right mind? I’m literally half asleep-”

“Stop cutting me off!” The red-haired fairy says in exasperation. “The higher ups were right; humans _are_ the worst species.”

“Then go back to your fairy circle? No one asked you to be summoned.”

“You just don't listen, do you?" the fairy throws his hands up in the air in frustration, limbs falling back to his sides then coming back up again to make gestures that could explain the reason as to why he has showed up. "I was summoned by you, who stepped inside my fairy circle at a very ungodly hour, because you need something."

"I do?"

_What do I need though?_

Mark needs a way to win a fight against Lucas, needs Jeno to wake up and open the door. Mark needs the warm water against his skin in hopes of cleaning himself up properly so he could tend to his wounds sooner. Mark needs the comfort of his bed and everything else.

"I'm not sure if I can give the first three. Maybe I can do something about your bruises and the bed though," The fairy, who, despite all the talking, he still doesn't know the name of, lifts himself off the ground with a light push against the pavement. Closing the distance between him and Mark, "It's Haechan, my name, I mean."

Mark takes a better look at the boy hovering above him. His nose seemed to be glowing a soft yellow shine of something, pixie dust perhaps? And his cheeks were adorned with freckles that were constellations? – Mark recognizes it as Gemini. Haechan’s curled red locks of hair flutters in the wind as his wings slowly flap behind him. 

Honestly, he didn’t know what to expect but this wasn’t the type of fairies Mark had expected to exist. His mind paints the image of fairies as creatures who were miniature, face shape smaller than what humans have, features sharp but easy to turn delicate. He thought they’d have a different skin color and have scales too.

He’s cute though, Mark will give him that.

As if on cue, He sees the skin along the fairy’s nose and cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

_So, he really is able to read my mind._

“Okay, as much as this is weirding you out, I still don’t know your name,” Haechan says, breath fanning against Mark’s face. Sunflowers, he’s reminded of them when he stares back at the fairy’s hazel orbs. They were close, a bit too close. Their noses were centimeters away from touching. Head hazy, the only coherent thought that Mark could make out was that he probably looked cross-eyed right now.

“Your. Name. Please.” Haechan says, voice soft, but also a few notes lower than the voice Mark had heard earlier. The sound of it goes straight to his stomach, a ripple effect as it resounds throughout his body.

“It’s Mark.”

“Okay, Mark. Can you please sit down?”

He finally sits down, the comfort flooding through his legs as they finally get to rest. Donghyuck still hovers around him, Mark assumes that he wouldn’t be able to sit down because of his wings.

“Hands?”

Mark tilts his head at him, then gets the command a second later when he sees the fairy wiggle the fingers of his own pair. He hesitates to place them, but Haechan’s hands reach out to them, “The sooner we fix you up, the sooner you’ll be able to sleep and get rid of me.”

He sits still as the fairy does his magic, tracing over the skin that had cut open in the knuckles, dried blood shedding off as he does so. The yellow glow he saw on the fairy boy’s nose reappears through his fingers as he mumbles to himself – a spell maybe, it was in a language Mark couldn’t understand. 

“So, how’d you get these? I’m assuming you take part in underground fights?” Haechan asks, an attempt in making small talk. Mark nods his head in response, which the fairy tsks at.

“You’re not killing me, are you?” Mark asks, unsure of trusting some random person with wings.

“I could, but unfortunately, we have rules that keep me from doing so.”

“And not being allowed to swear is one of them?”

“Yup, there’s a lot more though,” Haechan says and continues to list the other rules the realm of fairies follows. “Can’t go back to staying unbothered in my fairy circle if I don’t help a person with needs that stumbles upon it. Although I could have detached my wings, I can’t have more than one person see me, the wings limit my being visible.”

So, Mark thinks, he looks like a fool, with his hands in the air like a dog, to any passer-by. It doesn’t matter though, he knows that he has looked worse, especially when he was a beginner at the club; limping to his dorms with a hand pressing harshly at his shoulder in times Johnny wasn’t able to drive him back to the campus. Forgetting that he had this as a source of money as he shows up to classes with purple to yellowish marks on his face, on his arms and every other visible place. Jeno, being a dear that he is, asks Jaemin for his concealer to help cover up Mark’s bruises – never forgetting to slap the fighter’s back in order to remind him to replace it. 

“I might have to kiss the bruises on your face, Mark. Would that be okay with you?”

“What-”

“The bruises on your face are delicate, it would be easier to kiss on them rather than press my fingers on it for too long.”

Mark doesn’t know if it was because he was sleepy or because the boy in front of him, fluttering his wings so prettily, had lips that looked promising, but the words ‘go on’ roll off his tongue so easily. Which makes no sense, because he knows that his throat was horribly dry and his energy was depleting ever so quickly, he shouldn’t have been able to grant the fairy permission.

He feels a pair of lips against his jaw. The pressure soft against his skin, Mark doubts whether it was really a kiss. It was feint. It was warm. It was a thousand things Mark hadn’t expected it to be but right now he feels light-headed, he wasn’t able to comprehend things for a second. He feels energy rushing into his system right after that.

“Ah right, it has a few side effects. But it’s not anything that could kill you, don’t worry,” Haechan mumbles, before kissing at the scar on Mark’s cheekbone. “A few more and you’ll get to sleep.”

Mark was no stranger to kisses, but this. This was different for reasons he can’t really put a finger on. It may be the fact that it was from a particular red-haired fairy, or that this could just be a figment of his imagination and he was probably realistically living a dream he made up. 

(“Mark, I’m real.” Haechan argues. 

“Don’t you think that would be something a fairy would say to delude me into thinking that they were?” 

“If I weren’t then your wounds wouldn’t be healing this quick-” 

“What if it’s the alcohol? Or I'm Spiderman?” 

“From the looks of it, no, you're not Spiderman. Also, the effects of alcohol aren’t as pretty as me.” 

Mark thinks for a moment. “You’re right.”)

By the time the fairy finishes, Mark has already laid down – in a rather uncomfortable and stiff position – on the bench, the fairy adjusting to the new arrangement as he heals the very last bruises of Mark’s battered up self. Mark sees the fairy looking around, then glancing at the watch on Mark’s wrist. 

“1 am, I don’t think there would be many people going around at this hour, “ Haechan says to himself. “I could probably take off my wings for a few hours.”

Mark watches the fairy as he detaches his wings, they look lifeless and soft as they hang on the boy’s forearm. Mark wonders how it feels for Haechan, how it would feel if he touches it. He looks more human than fairy now, the color in his hair fading into a dull shade of red. 

“I’ve done this a couple times to try out a few spells, so I’m used to the feeling. It _is_ a bit weird though,” Haechan answers to Mark’s unspoken question. He sits down on the bench, a few inches above Mark’s head. “Up,” He shortly says, gesturing for Mark to lift his head so he could use the fairy’s leg as a pillow.

Mark sees the pair of wings flutter in air above him, he feels it drape around his body a second later, like a make-shift blanket. It surprisingly feels like silk, not like the scratchy webbed material he was expecting. He feels the familiar warmth of Haechan’s fingers move up and down the space between his eyebrows, like how a mother would when putting her child to sleep.

“Will you be going back now?” Mark asks a few moments later.

“The moment I sense a person enter the space; I’m taking my wings back. Sleep in comfort as much as you can before I head back.”

‘Can’t I just keep them? They feel nice.”

“No, but if ever you get locked out of your dorm again, you know where to find me.”

Mark hums, one more question keeping him from sleeping. “Do you go around kissing at people’s skin?”

He doesn’t miss the soft smile that makes its way to Haechan’s face, “Surprisingly, amongst all the idiots I’ve seen wander the campus, you’re the only person that has found my fairy circle. So, no, I don’t go around kissing people, I probably wouldn’t in the near future either.”

Mark feels the end of his lips curls up as he falls asleep.

_I hope that wouldn’t be that last I see of you._

(Mark almost doesn’t notice the sunflower shaped patch in the middle of Haechan’s fairy circle. And when he takes off his hoodie when he gets back to the dorm, he sees a small “it won’t” written across the white space of the tag.

“Sorry I wasn’t able to stay up. Wait, how are you-” Jeno stops, looking for the word. “How are you bruiseless?”

“Fairy.” is all that Mark says.

Jeno’s lips purse and his eyebrows furrow but says, “Okay then.”)

**Author's Note:**

> my sleepy ass forgot to put the notes omg, i actually crammed this last night because i wanted to be able to post it in time (altho i knew i could be late). i couldnt stop thinking about haechan and his red hair in we young era i just really though he looked so magical, and ive been dying to push the fairy hyuck agenda in one of my works so yea. again im only starting out as a writer, and im not sure if i was able to proofread this properly so im sorry for grammar mistakes and errors in general
> 
> comments are vv appreciated, lemme know what u guys think!!!


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